


100 Kinks

by Find_Me_Calling_You



Series: Learning to Be Three [5]
Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF
Genre: Anal Sex, Clothed Sex, Coming In Pants, Desperation Play, Fluff and Smut, Frottage, Hand Jobs, M/M, Multi, No Plot Yes Feelings, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Semi-Public Sex, Smut, This is pure filth, Threesome - M/M/M, Urination, Watersports, Wetting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-21
Updated: 2020-07-21
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:14:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25417534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Find_Me_Calling_You/pseuds/Find_Me_Calling_You
Summary: I have a list of a hundred different kinks sitting around somewhere in a word document. Someday, there will be 100 kinky TAN (Timmy/Armie/Niki) stories here for your pleasure.
Relationships: Nick Delli Santi/Armie Hammer, Timothée Chalamet/Armie Hammer, Timothée Chalamet/Nick Delli Santi, Timothée Chalamet/Nick Delli Santi/Armie Hammer
Series: Learning to Be Three [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1656886
Comments: 16
Kudos: 35





	100 Kinks

**Author's Note:**

> These will all exist within the Learning to be Three verse, but also be able to stand alone. Some may be more Armie/Nick heavy, others will definitely be more Armie/Timmy heavy, and some will even be Niki/Timmy. As is with the Learning to be Three verse, these are written First-Person POV from Armie; that's honestly the biggest difference with these stories. And yes, because it was watersports that got us here, assume there's always a chance you may stumble upon piss play in these stories. And there is most definitely some in this first one.

On a perfectly average Sunday morning, I wake up with a nasty case of leg cramps, letting me know that, one, I should have better balanced my water intake to the ridiculous amount of wine we had last night, and two, I’m definitely not up to joining Nick for our morning run. My gorgeous best friend is currently nuzzling against the back of my neck, pressing gentle lips to the slope of it and onto my shoulder.

“Good morning.” Nick whispers and I can’t hold back a smile, as he leans over, tilts his head so even if the angle isn’t right for us to kiss, we can rub scratchy cheeks together, something I tend to enjoy more during sex when we’re panting and groaning against each other’s skin, trading breathless kisses. It never fails to get a contented little hum out of Nick though and I let him enjoy the sensation. “Are you okay?” He asks soft, sensing something’s off just in how my body lies against his.

“Just cramps. Think I’m gonna sleep in a little with Tim.” Nick shifts again, presses his lips to my temple then up into my hair. “Are you gonna be okay?”

“Of course.” Nick nods and finally moves enough so we can share a soft kiss, morning breath be damned. Nick is in my earliest memory, Dru and Carolyn presenting me with a cooing infant with dark honey brown hair and a happy, toothless smile. I had immediately known that I liked this baby much better than the little brother I received a few months prior. 

There’s nothing we haven’t shared, nothing to hide between us.

Nick slides off the bed and I settle in, curled around Timmy, watching Nick make his way to the closet. Once upon a time, I had famously said briefs were never okay, but on Nick, yeah, they’re completely okay and then some. He chooses tasteful cuts from nice brands and it’s positively drool worthy the way the curves of his ass peek out. They also draw attention to Nick’s nice full balls and beautiful thick cock, perfectly framed by long, lean thighs. Thighs that I loved to lie between as a teenager.

There were lots of things that I appreciated about a teenage Nick but learned to love even more as an adult, especially after I had broken free of at least some of the deep-rooted shame my mother and Elizabeth installed in me. His distinct masculinity, the firm curves of well defined muscle, strong hands, dark hair that absorbed the smell of the sea, the air, and sweat and created something that was entirely Nick.

Nick’s found an almost-too-short pair of jogging shorts and is pulling our shared pink t-shirt over his head.

“Nantucket red.” My insistence. Nick’s giggles. Every time.

“I love you, I’ll be back soon.” Nick whispers, leans down, kisses me softly then presses his lips to Timmy’s dark curls. He nuzzles in, not enough to wake him but a pleasant deposit of affection.

Then, he’s gone.

I doze in and out for the better part of the next fifteen minutes before lightly pumping my feet, stretching my calves so I can settle into a proper snuggle with Timmy. He’s our little night owl, our late riser in the morning, and I love these quiet hours where it’s just the two of us. The soft morning light like all the days I blinked awake with him in my arms in Crema. The fruity sweetness of his shampoo, the wild fluff of his curls. His beautiful features are so peaceful. As incredible as Timmy is awake and full of life and his boundlessly expressive self, there are moments I long for this. The moments I prayed never ended in Italy when he was completely relaxed, utterly trusting and wanting nothing more than my closeness and warmth. It’s something I feel somewhat confident I can’t mess up and every time he snuffles closer in his sleep or rubs his face on my chest or even just rolls over, scootches back because he still has to be in contact no matter what weird position he wants to sleep in, I think I fall a little bit more in love with him.

I’m just on the verge of drifting back to sleep when my bladder complains that it most definitely needs emptying of the stupid amount of wine we drank last night. I debate relaxing, letting it go where I am. It’s a rare treat but after the purchase of a good absorbent pad and mattress protector, there’s a filthy, naughty pleasure when we’re all piled together and one of  us is aching for relief but we don’t want to move an inch. And I will never complain about the heady goodness that is fucking on our wet sheets, a whole additional level of intimacy. But today, I don’t want to leave Timmy in a puddle of urine, and if he’s not ready to be awake, then I’m not going to wake him.

I slide Nick and I’s pillows carefully into his arms, watch as he settles into cuddling those as I tuck him in snug and warm.

I do enjoy having a private backyard. While the front of our condo is closely aligned around the cul-de-sac, our yard is protected from our neighbors on either side by meticulously landscaped privacy hedges, allowing me to stroll almost nude down the path towards our pool. I am wearing a ridiculously fluffy bathrobe Timmy got me for Christmas, but it’s open and I walk freely, without shame.

Perhaps the urge comes from somewhere primal, like I’m a dog marking his territory after being kept inside for too long, but it’s also so incredibly freeing to know I can do this. Just past the pool, with a glorious view of the sun rising over LA, my bladder gives me a warning twinge of pain and it’s time.

I relax my pelvic muscles, hands on my hips, tucking my robe back, my morning erection giving my urine all the distance it needs to stream into the grass instead of down my leg. It’s almost erotic, knowing I can come out here and engage such a base need. Perhaps if we all picnic together later, we can do it naked. Even out our tan lines, maybe fill my boys up with juice and lemonade and make them squirm and compete for relief. I can already see them, restless hips, twisting thighs, tapping feet, grabbing leaky cocks as their bladders sit full and heavy in the narrow cradles of their pelvises.

I’m so hard by the end of that thought train that it actually hurts to push out the last bit of piss.

I debate jerking off, adding a splash of my seed to my yard while I look out over the city, claim it as ours, ours,  _ ours _ , but decide against it, wanting the arousal to continue to grow, build it up so I can really fuck my boys well today. And coming so quickly is never terribly satisfying.

Nick tends towards longer jogs when he’s out alone, probably because I have a hard max of about 20 minutes of watching his round, tight ass bouncing in front of me before I drag him into the nearest semi-private space and slide my dick along his crack, nudge at his hole and feel him shiver as I come across his skin.

But when he’s alone, I know he likes the extra time to gather, process, clear his thoughts, his observations, the little things a brain meanders through when given space for quiet reflection.

I prep breakfast, throwing together waffle batter, peeling and slicing fruit before I put it back in the fridge, prep our reusable k-cups. With Timmy still snoozing and not quite sure when Nick will be back, I’m not sure when the best time to do anything more might be so I wait for now.

I settle into the couch, flip through a dog-eared copy of my next script, scanning my notes in the margins as well as the lines, occasionally giving my very determined semi a tug now and again, just enjoying the pleasant tingles of lingering arousal. I debate putting the news on but there’s only so much I can split my focus. I’m tempted to start playing with the app on my phone that’s trying to teach me Italian. But as I thumb to find it, an alert pops up on the screen, taking me to a new live feed of the side entrance to our yard, gate tucked behind a fat bush a little taller than I am. There’s a camera trained on the gate and the side exit of the garage, along with the path that leads around to our patio.

I’m curious to see who it is, but it’s obvious after just a few seconds it’s Nick. The hair and the build give him away, but what really catches my eye is the desperate way he scrambles through the gate, barely hiding behind the bush, and yanks his shorts down. Courtesy of the high definition video, I can see his cock is already pissing and the microphone picks up his low groan, relief and perhaps mild distress. Niki never minded peeing with Tim or I but other times, it could be a struggle for him. Shy bladder around strangers, I overheard him explaining once to Timmy.

But there’s absolutely nothing shy right now in the absolute fucking flood he’s letting loose just barely out of sight. It’s tricking away down the footpath in what looks to be a rapidly growing river. A strange part of me wants to see if it makes it all the way down to the patio and into the grass. At the way Niki’s going, it’s quite possible.

I can’t resist grabbing my cock, hissing as I give it a few quick, tight pumps at the base. I’m not looking at a clock but it has to have been almost a minute since Nick’s stream first burst out of him and it’s finally showing signs of slowing off into a gentle patter and trickle. I catch his heavy sigh then click my phone off, make my way to the garage entrance and wait.

It’s not long at all before I hear the door to outside open and shut, then the door beside me opens, Nick a sweaty, beautiful, blushing mess who jumps at my presence.

“Hey.”

“Hey yourself.” I can’t hold back my smirk, draw him close for a kiss. He holds his hips away even as I pull him into a hug. “Good run?” I’m trying not to tease him too badly, but the way his cheeks get more and more red is utterly delicious.

“Y-yeah. Just need a shower.” Nick attempts a smile and draws away, as if that’s the end of our conversation as he attempts to hurry down the hall to the bathroom.

Slipping through the bedroom is his undoing, his excess caution at not wanting to wake Timmy giving me all the chance I need to catch up, slipping into the bathroom with him.

“Armie.” He whines as he approaches the sink, his usual routine of brushing his teeth before the shower and shaving after.

“What are you being all shy about?” In the closed room, I can smell him, thick and bitter the way morning urine tends to be. His underwear must be soaked and I wonder how much he pissed on himself before he finally burst in the side yard.

“Nothing.” Nick’s cheeks are positively scarlet and I slide up behind him, press my erection against the line of his shorts, rocking between those deliciously plump asscheeks. 

“Nothing?” I catch his eyes in the mirror and as much as I see his nervousness, there’s undeniable arousal and I smile lightly, lean over his shoulder and nibble his ear. “Is it really nothing? Because I think it kind of smells like you wet your pants.”

Nick’s groan echoes through the room as I cup his full cock, straining against the positively drenched fabric of his underwear and stupid short-shorts.

“You wanna tell me how this happened, baby?” It takes a little maneuvering of my hand and wrist, but the snugness of Nick’s briefs has slackened with the weight of his piss, letting me stroke his hard line of his cock through wet cotton. He whimpers but surrenders, tips his head back onto my shoulder.

“I ran most of the way up the canyon to the start of the trail, thought I could piss in the bushes there. I didn’t really feel it when I left the house but I had to go so bad by the time I reached the trail.” Nick barely swallows back a moan as I tease his frenulum through wet fabric, not quite ready to reach inside to play with him skin-on-skin yet. The trail in question was a good 35 minutes from our house and I know all too well how uncomfortable running with a full bladder could be.

“Why didn’t you go there?” I whisper against his skin and I feel his cock jump in my hand when I give him a quick squeeze before taking my hand away. Backing my hips up a little, I reach down, shove his shorts down to his ankles. His briefs are light grey and with our height and the low counter, in the mirror, they’re obviously soaked, clinging to the shape of Nick’s full, heavy cock.

“There were so many people!” Nick’s voice holds a whining tone. “If you were there to watch my back, it would have been okay, but it’s hard when you feel really watched.” I let out a genuinely sympathetic hum at that but nibble his shoulder lightly as I lower just the back of his underwear, slipping a long middle finger into his hole, still wet and sticky and loose from Timmy and I leaving at least two loads each in him. I’m not entirely sure Timmy didn’t fuck him a third time after I dozed off because he’s so wet, so slick, I slide my finger out and replace it with the head of my cock, thrusting in just an inch or so at first, a tease more than anything, rocking just enough to tease him with the wide flare of my cockhead. 

“But what if I wanted you to go in your pants?” I thrust forward and he can’t contain a soft cry. “What if I dared you before we even left that I wanted to see you full to bursting? That we could go on a nice long run, just the two of us and when you couldn’t hold it anymore, I could watch you make a puddle on the sidewalk? Or I could tell you to go right next to the trail and I know you’d do it for me because you’re so fucking good, Niki. Your shorts are black, so no one but us would know you were pissing yourself, giving into that so very desperate urge to let go then feeling all that deliciously hot relief.” I’m so focused on what I’m saying, my hips have given in to helpless rutting, thankfully with enough rhythm that Nick seems to be loving it based on the increasing volume of his sighs, pants, and bitten-off groans.

“Would have made the run home--oh fuck, Armie--a lot more comfortable.” I’ve found his prostate and have given into a slow grind, feeling his body winding itself tighter and tighter, closer to climax.

“I know.” I whisper to him, kissing his ear. “But seeing you lose control, seeing you so desperate you were already wetting your pants before you even got your cock out? Hottest...fucking...thing…”

We both lose ourselves then, my teeth sinking into the muscle of his neck as I start to come, fucking, harder, deeper, chasing more, more.

“Armie!” Nick cries out and comes hard right into his piss-soaked undies, writhing in my arms, pinned between my hips and the counter.

“Oh!” My head snaps to the side at the exclamation and I find Timmy leaning on the door frame, pumping his cock as it spills its load onto the shiny tile floor. “Fuck.” Timmy grunts, deep and heavy with lingering sleep and arousal.

Timmy’s swear finally caught Nick’s attention and he’s blushing all new again, shorts still around his ankles, underwear wet with his urine and semen.

“Good morning.” Timmy sing-songs as I release Nick’s hips, Timmy joining us at the counter. “What happened here?” His hand reaches out, strokes over Nick’s thick cock, still too sensitive and half-hard in its wet fabric prison.

“I...might have pissed myself a little when I went jogging.” Nick confesses, hissing at the continued motion of Timmy’s hand.

“Hmm.” Timmy hums, considering. Nick pants softly and I swallow hard when I see his eyes flash with heat and mischief.

“Tim.” Niki whispers when Timmy guides his own dick into the leg-hole of his underwear.

“You’re all wet Niki, you won’t mind a little more, right?” Timmy cocks his head in a smile then sighs happily, finding his own morning relief as he pisses into Nick’s already drenched underwear.

“ _Mio Dio, Timothée_!” It’s too much feeling, utterly filthy yet shockingly intimate, leaving Nick swaying on his feet before leaning into Timmy’s embrace, letting our younger lover hold him. Timmy’s free hand grips tight to the hairs at the base of Nick’s neck, moaning soft and blissful as he finds his relief and Nick shivers with overstimulation. 

When Timmy’s stream finally tapers away, he tugs Nick’s underwear down, strokes their cocks together, transferring the mess to his own aching dick, listening to Nick mewl at the feeling of their skin rubbing together. Timmy’s eyes flick to mine and his grin is temptation personified.

“Let’s go back to bed. Do you want to eat Niki out before or after I fuck him?” 

I can only swear, sway from the rush of blood right back to my aching erection and I’m quick to chase my beautiful boys back to bed. The sheets are due to be changed later anyway.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Throw me a number from 1 to 100 when you comment to keep me going!


End file.
